


What's Left of Me

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Child Death, Death, F/M, Gen, House Lannister, House Stark, King Aegon VI, King Rickon, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Princes & Princesses, Princess Sansa, Rare Pairings, Sansa-centric, Song Lyrics, Songfic, War Of The Five Kings, king in the north, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martyn Lannister and Sansa Stark have both had everything taken from them. Martyn asks that Sansa takes what's left of him.</p>
<p>**Songfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Left of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of these two for some reason and now I'm obsessed!

_Watch my life,_

_Pass me by,_

_In the rear view mirror_

His family is dead. His uncle, his cousins, his father, his mother, his brothers, and his darling sister. His brother Willem died in the original War of the Five Kings. His father, uncle, mother, and cousins were killed in the Period of Rest after the supposed end of the War of the Five Kings and before the Invasion of Fire. His sister and last remaining brother and cousins were killed in the Invasion of Fire, when the supposed Targaryen Prince invaded. If it weren’t for the advisors telling the Prince turned King that he would be scorned for wiping out an entire house, Martyn would surely be dead as well.

That was nearly five years ago. He has since married a woman who died in the birthing bed along with one of the twins born that morning.

He has a daughter, whom he named Janei for his sweet deceased sister. She is his pride and joy and he is happy to leave Casterly Rock to her if he never marries again and produces an heir.

_Pictures frozen in time_

_Are becoming clearer_

Martyn Lannister likes to spend his nights in the Gallery, where all the family portraits of the Lannisters hang along with gifted artwork. The hall is spacious and luxuriously decorated, but it is empty and he does not like the way his shoes echo when they hit the stone. It is a haunting place he thinks, filled with images of the dead. The moonlight streams in through the tall windows and the light makes the hall appear abandoned and sad.

He stops in front of one portrait, gifted to Lady Sansa by her husband before his death. It is a painting of Lady (now Princess) Sansa, back when her name was Lannister. In the painting her hair is down around her shoulders to symbolize her Northern heritage. She is in a gown of the lightest lavender and she stands behind a chair, her body twisted so it appears as if she is walking away, but her head is turned so she looks back towards the seat of the chair. She appears neither sad nor happy. On the seat of the chair is a crown of winter blue roses. At the bottom of the frame is a small golden plaque with the words: **To My Queen of Love and Beauty**

Martyn smiles at the image, wondering if the real Princess Sansa looks so beautiful. Even many years later, Martyn has never forgotten that her brother Robb avenged his brother’s death even though it was likely a factor in his own.

_I don't wanna waste another day_

_Stuck in the shadow of my mistakes_

The Lord of Casterly Rock looks up at the large Palace as he enters the gates of the Red Keep. The grown man of twenty years feels like a boy inside it. He’s been here once in his life, at his second cousin Joffrey’s coronation. He’d been a boy then, fourteen he thinks. It was different then, he’d been with his father and he’d been able to spend his time with his cousin Tommen. Now he has no one, no friends or families or allies to speak of.

He’s greeted by Jon Connington. It is a short and tense welcome, but a welcome just the same. The man leads him and his small party to their rooms.

“Take my daughter and dress her for the banquet,” he tells the governess before leaning over to scoop his princess into his arms. What he did to deserve such a perfect daughter he will never know. He kisses her cheek and whispers his love into her ear before returning her to the governess.

It pains him to see her taken away. She is the last of his family and to make sure he never rises against the crown she will be taken from him, sent to foster in Dorne with her mother’s family.

_Yeah…_

When he enters the Great Hall he is amazed at the beauty of it. Everything is red and black and the banners of House Targaryen are on every wall. There is a high table in front of the new throne. When he heard that King Aegon Targaryen meant to melt the throne and create five new ones in it’s place, he’d been surprised. There is a large throne in the center, silver with rubies and golden engravings, meant for the King and then there are two on either side of it made of twin silver for his Queens (as Targaryens tend to have more than one), and then two bronze ones beside those, one for the Hand and the other for the crowned prince.Of course the King sits in his throne, but he is the only one that sits in the throne meant for him. Beside the King is Princess Sansa of the North, representing the North in the name of her brother, King Rickon.

If he considered the Great Hall beautiful, it is nothing compared to the Princess. She is positively radiant, dressed in a sleeveless gown of silver silk. Added to it is a high neckline and sleeves of nylon, decorated with small diamonds that are shaped to look like snowflakes. Her eyes are circled in black charcoal and her red hair shines like gold. She sits beside the King with a smirk on her lips, but he sees the glare in her eyes. The King wishes to make her a Queen, but Martyn sees she will never allow it. He doesn’t blame her, she’s been beaten by powerful men enough to last many lifetimes.

Her eyes meet his and any amusement behind them vanishes when she sees him. She knows who he is, not his person but his name.

_Cause I want you,_

_And I feel you,_

_Crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger,_

_Like a burning,_

She approaches him, later in the feast when the King is drunk on wine. She sits beside him. She does not look at him, simply picks up the golden goblet abandoned by the Lord that sat beside him earlier. She sips at the wine, observing the dancers. The nobles are fairly drunk and the music has gone from soft ballads to ranchy music that would make most sober women blush.

“You are Lannister,” she states, still not looking his way, “which one?”

“Lord Martyn Lannister, third son of second son Kevan Lannister,” he replies, unable to drag his eyes away from her. “I was here, at Joffrey’s coronation. I saw you.”

“Did you?” she asks, looking into the goblet.

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth. Joffrey should have never harmed you. I am sorry for everything my family has done to you. I never had the pleasure of meeting your father or brother, but I know they were good men.”

“Are you now? Sorry now that my brother rules the North and that I have just been propositioned to be the future Queen of Westeros?” she finally looks at him and there is contempt in her eyes.

“Princess, my brother was your brother’s prisoner. When Lord Karstark killed him, your brother sought revenge. That is not the deed of a bad man.”

She looks surprised, but her eyes are still hard. “I accept your apology then.”

“We are cousins you and I, by marriage. I know you have family again, but I have a daughter, a small girl of one year, she is your family too.” He doesn’t know why he said it, but a smile creeps at the corner of her lips and it’s enough to make him not regret it.

“I would like to meet her,” she says cautiously. He sees her eyes flicker to two Stark Kingsguard of the North. One places his hand on his sword but Sansa shakes her head just slightly. He eases up immediately but he is watching carefully.

_To find a place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm faded,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be:_

_But you can have what's left of me_

He’s exhausted when he falls into his bed. He was never supposed to be Lord of Casterly Rock. All he’s ever wanted was to marry a nice girl and live in the Free Cities as a sell sword. He married Janei’s mother out of duty, to preserve his House and his name. He’d shared no love with her and while he’d grieved her death, there was no love lost. Now his child, his sweet girl whom he loves more than anything in the entire world, will be taken from him.

Has he not suffered enough? The annihilation of his entire House and the death of his wife and the son born alongside his daughter. He spent weeks being beaten by the King’s soldiers before he finally agreed to allow Martyn his life and his family’s lands. Why must they take his daughter?

His cousin by marriage sits beside the fireplace. She has Janei in her lap. She bounces Martyn’s only child on her knee, cooing softly to her. He has been at King’s Landing for four months and he and his cousin have grown close in the time. She shares his grief at having to have his child taken from him and she understands his despair at having his entire family killed.

“I cannot have children,” Sansa says suddenly.

Martyn furrows his eyebrows as he turns in his bed to look at her. She is not looking at him, instead she looks at Janei. For a moment he wonders if he imagined her words.

“Joffrey’s men hit me. He had me stripped naked before the court and one of the men hits me with the sharp edge of the sword. There was so much blood I thought I would die. When I awoke the Maester told me I would never carry a child to term. I told the King. Aegon is disgusted by me now. What use is a Northern Princess who can bear no children?” She smiles, pressing her lips to Janei’s forehead. “I will likely never marry because of it.”

“Do you want to marry?” he asks her.

“To a good man, yes, but who will have me now?” she asks him.

“I would.”

_I've been dying inside,_

_Little by little,_

_No where to go,_

_But going out of my mind_

_In endless circles,_

_Running from my self until,_

_You gave me a reason for standing still_

Six years have passed. He still thinks of Princess Sansa every day. He wishes he could have married her, but she was right when she said that the Princess of the North cannot remarry for a second time into the family of the ones that murdered her own. That day she dried his tears and kissed his cheeks. They shared a bed and she was gone the next day. She left in the night and was already many hours towards the North by the time he awoke.

“Papa I don’t want to go!” Janei cries as she clings to him. When he refused to take another wife they commanded him to King’s Landing and informed him that they would not be waiting for Janei’s tenth nameday to send her away.

“I don’t want you to go either, but you must,” he whispers to her, tears falling from his own eyes as he looks her in the eye. “Never forget that I love you with all my heart.”

“Papa!” she screams as they rip her from his arms.

He wishes Sansa were with him, she’d assure him that everything would be alright.

“I love you Janei!”

_Cause I want you,_

_And I feel you,_

_Crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger,_

_Like a burning,_

_To find a place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm faded,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be:_

_But you can have what's left of me_

He looks down at the red haired beauty that lays across his chest. When Princess Sansa Stark of the North sent him a royal invitation for him to come and visit the Capital of the Northern Kingdom, Martyn jumped at the chance. He has been here almost a fortnight and he’s spent every night of it in her bed. She makes him happy. Listening to her laugh is one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“What are you thinking?” she asks as she looks up at him, shifting so she can climb onto of him so she is straddling his waist.

He places his hands on her hip, loving the feel of them. She fits so perfectly against him that he doesn’t care that she can never give him a child. His family’s been taken from him, his child’s been taken from him, all that’s left of him is her. They were made for one another, he knows it.

“Marry me,” he whispers again.

She sighs.

_It's falling faster,_

_Barely breathing,_

_Give me something,_

_To believe in_

_Tell me: It's not all in my head_

She asks him to leave the next morning. He begs and he pleads with her to just allow them this.

“We’ve been unhappy all our lives, do we not deserve this?” he demands, tears streaming down his face as he looks at her. He is a man grown with a daughter who is ten years old, but Sansa makes him feel like a boy of fifteen again. “Look at me Sansa, look me in the eye and tell me you do not love me. I will leave, forever, just say it to my face.”

“Martyn,” she whispers, turning to look at him, her tear-filled eyes boring into his, “I do not love you.”

He feels as if his world has crashed down around him

_Take what's left_

_Of this man_

_Make me whole_

_Once again_

He dreams of her. He dreams that she is his wife and that they are together at Casterly Rock with Janei. He dreams of them dancing in the Weirwood he would make into a Godswood for her. He dreams of the three of them picnicking by a cliff that overlooks the sea. What it would be like, to watch Sansa braid his daughter’s hair with wildflowers while he looks up at the sky.

“Sansa,” he sighs as he awakens in the night. The fire is still roaring but it does nothing to warm his chamber. The sea is raging outside his window and the rains fall over Casterly Rock with a vengeance. It is as if the gods mourn someone.

The next morning he receives a raven telling him of the death of his daughter, taken by the stranger in the night. He falls to his knees and screams.

_Cause I want you,_

_And I feel you,_

_Crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger,_

_Like a burning,_

_To find a place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm faded,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be:_

_But you can have what's left of me_

Martyn Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, is a broken man. He is man of thirty-two but he knows he appears far older. His golden hair is gray and his tanned skin is wrinkled and aged. He hears the whispers when he rides into court. They pity him. He doesn’t want their pity.

He enters the Red Keep and bows before the King.

“Lord Martyn, my deepest condolences for the loss of your daughter,” the King tells him, though the words ring hollow in Martyn’s ears.

“Thank you Your Grace,” he replies, rising in time to hear the doors behind him open and for the people around him to fall to their knees. He turns to see her. She looks shocked and worried, her eyes wide as they look at him. She’s dressed in a gown the color of dark emeralds. Her hair is pinned back in a simple but elegant style. Her eyes are no longer heavily circled in charcoal, but her lips are a vibrant red.

“Martyn,” she whispers, sadness creeping into her eyes. She opens and closes her mouth multiple times before she simply runs towards him, throwing her arms around him. She cries into his hair and he cries into hers. He’s too weak to support them both so they sink to the floor. The crowd around them fades away and it is only them in the Throne room. “I am so sorry.”

She loved Janei too, he knows that. His daughter’s been dead almost a half year and the wound is still as fresh as the day the letter arrived.

“Marry me,” she whispers, “We have suffered enough. I lied when I said I did not love you. Marry me Martyn.”

He doesn’t care if the Lannister name dies with him, he will marry her. The gods have been cruel, but they will not take Sansa from him.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” she finally replies, before leaning forward and kissing him.

_I've been dying inside you see_

_I'm going out of my mind_

_Out of my mind_

_I'm just running in circles all the time_

_Will you take what's left_

_Will you take what's left_

_Will you take what's left of me?_

_Just running in circles in my mind_

_Will you take what's left_

_Will you take what's left_

_Will you take what's left of me?_ **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Yes Sansa wouldn't have fallen for him so fast but it works. Drop a comment.


End file.
